Two Months Later
“I’M SORRY, WHAT?” I SAY into my phone.
“Dez is driving up to see me,” Brit says and I have to check the connection. Because being in Hawaii has to have something to do with what I’m hearing.
“You and him are giving me whiplash.” Seriously, I can’t keep up.
She loves him, she doesn’t. He loves her, it’s a joke. They’re casual, they’re dating. They’re not talking, he’s driving up to see her. It’s all very confusing.
“I know,” she sighs. “But things are going to change after this.”
“Brit?” I don’t like the tone of her voice. She sounds detached and monotone.
“Don’t worry, Em,” she tries to reassure me, but the words fall flat like her tone.
“Brit—”
“Hey, I gotta go, bye!” She hangs up as I hear a knock on her dorm room door.
I sit on the edge of the hotel bed as Bash comes out of the bathroom. He’s only wearing baggy athletic shorts while rubbing a towel over his hair, which is shaggier than it was when we first met. Little droplets of water run down his neck and onto his bare sculpted chest.
Hello.
I’ll never tell him this because magazines do enough to feed his ego, but Bash is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. Sometimes when he walks into the room, my breath will catch and my heart will race. The feeling takes me by surprise every time and it’s one that I hope will never go away.
Bash makes my life better, makes me laugh harder. He also banters with me better than anyone else I know. I’ll spar against him any day of the week.
Being on this trip has been fun, but I miss Hurlee. He’s Bash’s dog, but he secretly likes me better. The five-month-old pit-mix is staying at Dez’s. He almost went to my parents’, but I’ve been around Dez a lot these past two months, have seen him with his niece and nephew, and know that despite his flaws, he truly is responsible. But if one hair is out of place on that dog’s body, there will be words—
Wait. Brit’s dorm isn’t dog friendly.
“Hey,” I say. Bash looks at me, towel still in hand as droplets race down his chest. My tongue pokes out of the corner of my mouth. He raises a brow, a smirk growing on his face, and I blink. Right. Focus, Emery. “Dez isn’t watching Hurlee. He’s on his way to see Brit.”
Bash doesn’t look shocked. Doesn’t even blink or looked phased.
“You knew!” I jump to my feet and march over to him. A finger presses between his pecs. “And you didn’t tell me?”
My neck stretches out like a turtle’s as I try to get in Bash’s face. His lips twitch as he tries to keep from laughing.
“Calm down, Firecracker.” He grabs both my wrists and brings them over my head, backing me up until I hit the wall. “He’s with your parents.”
“That’s a better option for him anyway,” I grumble as my body stretches up on the tips of my toes. “He doesn’t need all of Dez’s partying in his life. He’s very impressionable in these early months.” When we dropped him off at Dez’s, I told him that we better not come back to the pup doing keg stands.
Dez made no promises.
“Be nice,” he whispers, his voice much closer than before as he presses his body into mine.
“You don’t want me nice,” I remind him as he pulls at my earlobe with his teeth.
Since January, between my decision to get back on the circuit, Bash firing his mom, and having a new puppy to take care of, our lives have been crazy.
Things haven’t settled, a lot of details are still swirling in the air around us, but for right now we’re where we want to be. We’re focusing on the now instead of what’s going to happen in the tomorrow.
My dad has been helping both of us in the water, with assistance from Jason and Mick. All three of them even became Bash’s replacement for his mom. Managing and training, basically helping my man outside of the water as much as in.
For me? It’s my mom. Despite her insane hours at the lab, she’s working her ass off with me.
I think she’s using Dad to help, going to him for tips, but as upset as he was when I told him I didn’t want his help, this is the least I can do.
I still don’t trust the water and I never will. But I love it with all my heart. It’s where my discomfort and comfort meet in the middle and despite never knowing what’s swimming with me, I feel at home.
I feel at home in the ever-changing scenery of the sea.
It’s on land that I’d rather not be.
Bash pulls away and I chase after him, my body a magnet to his.
“Hey, Em?” His voice gives me pause.
The rushing heat that consumes my body freezes. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Three simple words, I and love and you, strung together to mean something so much grander than the basic function of the individual words.
My heart stops and my breathing slows, my pulse rate drops dramatically as the words crash over me again and again and again.
I love you
I love you
I love you
“I love you too,” I say, or I think I do. Maybe I thought it. Everything feels discombobulated. Feeling as if I’m observing things from the outside, I taste the words as they leave my lips. I’ve always thought they would taste like ash.
Yet, they don’t. They taste natural, sweet and sugary. Like chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven. Or maybe that’s because I’m hungry.
I love yous have always scared me. I’ve spent almost twenty years avoiding saying the words to anyone who isn’t family. And then this Hawaiian-born Californian crashes into my life and throws that entire belief out the window.
Bash chases my words with his mouth as he kisses me with a new kind of hunger. One I’ve never felt from him. One I’ve never felt myself.
Soon my clothes are gone and his shorts are at his ankles.
I’m trying to branch out with my clothes, wearing more shorts on the occasion, shorts that are now on the floor next to his, but blogs and online articles haven’t been kind to me, saying shit that has made me want to hide behind the denim and cotton and neoprene. Even the girl with the thickest skin as her armor can crumble with the right hit.
Bash is always there though. He gives me strength when it’s too hard to stand on my own.
And it’s because I love him and he loves me that I know whatever we face we’ll have each other for the highs and lows. Plus, we’ll have Hurlee, and that makes everything better.
He pushes me against the wall, rolling his hips into mine.
My head falls back against the wall as I arch against him.
Bash slips on a condom and slides into me. My nails dig into his back as he slams my back into the wall, thrusting up. He grabs my chin, bringing my mouth to his. His lips, his tongue, are as frantic as his thrusts. Dirty, sloppy, hungry.
A hunger building toward satisfaction as he moves us to the bed, covering my body with his. Sweat and sex fill the air around us and he bites my neck, my shoulder, growling for me to let go.
And I do; I let go and scream his name. His moans follow, muffled by his face buried in my neck.
Heavy breathing and pounding hearts fill my ears as I hold onto him.
After a while, Bash pulls back, licking my neck as he does. He gets up to dispose of the condom before climbing back into bed and pulling me on top of his chest.
I smile down at him, tired and sleepy, as his fingers drum over the scars.
“I hope you know that you’re stuck with me now.”
His hands still. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
I pinch his nipple as my lip fishhooks into a snarl. His hissing in pain quickly turns into a laugh as he slaps my ass. “Kidding, Firecracker. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Woooo!” I cheer with the crowd around me as Bash comes in from his set. Cameras are flashing, catching my every reaction. Some lenses have been trained on me the entire day.
I’m wearing a slouchy tank and midi shorts. The shirt covers my scars, but the shorts don’t. The denim cuts off as the raised fleshed carries down my leg and to the top of my knee. My cross-body bag, thankfully, has a long strap and is wide enough that, from certain angles, they can’t be seen.
Or, what I truly fear, having them on camera. I can see the taglines now for online news articles if they do get a shot of them. Using my story for clickbait ratings.
A part of me wanted to wear jeans. It is the safer option, but I’m in Hawaii, on a beach, at a surf competition. Having legs that are clad in denim would’ve made me stand out more.
So here I am, standing in a crowd of people with a huge smile on my face as Bash walks my way. He just killed it out there, some announcers even commenting on how that’s the best he’s surfed in years.
Feeling proud and giddy, my feet start to move in place. Waiting with a bundle of excitement. As Bash comes closer, I’m unable to stop them from racing to him and jumping into his arms.
He’s still holding his board, but catches me around the waist with his free arm. With my arms around his neck and my feet off the ground, bent at the knee, I hear cameras clicking and capturing this moment. And despite my reservations, I’m glad. I want him to remember this moment. I want us to remember the feeling of triumph while surrounded by chaos.
“You did it,” I whisper in his ear. “You’re back.”
Bash doesn’t say anything. He only squeezes my waist until I look at him and his mouth claims mine. The kiss is hard and drawn out. The kind of kiss that takes over the senses, that blocks the world out.
We kiss as they announce the scores, missing the numbers entirely. But it doesn’t matter because Bash did it. He’s made his comeback.
And in two months I’ll be making mine.